So, I had read the first two novels in the Mary Russell Series, but unfortunately forgotten about them when recencently packing for a move, I rediscovered A Monstrous Regiment of Women and gave it a read. Why hadn't I finished the series?! I'm back in love with it. So this little drabble popped into my head as they always do…at about 3 am. I know, its a little fluff, but I wanted to expand upon those rare moments of tenderness between Russell and Holmes. This isn't set before any particular case, just a moment in time. Enjoy!
I lay awake, listening to my husband snore softly on the pillow next to me, one are tossed limply around my waist. I turned in his arms to face his front (not rousing him in the least as he is quite a sound sleeper when he finally succumbs to the draw of sleep) and studied his face. He looked considerably younger than his years in the pale moonlight, the fine veneer of fatigue and cynicism wiped away to reveal a fragile peacefulness. My body, on the other hand, rebelled against sleep as it always had before a trying day. I had been coaxed ( or rather forced) by my husband to attempt a few hours rest earlier in the evening , eventually falling into a thin sleep punctuated by anxious visions. I awoke to find Holmes seated in his customary chair, staring blankly into the fire.
"Sleep well?" He asked absently.
I sighed and stretched out my tired joints. 'You know me better than that, Holmes. Of course I didn't."
He smiled faintly, uncurling his legs from the chair to make room for me.
"You needn't worry so, Russ," He began once I was situated. "These few months will be over soon…and you'll be so immersed in your role you won't even notice my absence".
"I'm not that competent an actress." I said, forcing a smile that faded as soon as it met my lips. "I…this will be the longest time we'll be apart without communication since- since we returned from Palestine" My stomach twisted involuntarily, the memory of the "alienation" trap we had laid years before still stinging. I looked at Holmes, expecting a smart remark to my sentimentality. Instead he looked down at me and for an instant I thought I saw a flash of pain behind his cool grey eyes.
"If there were a way to go about this without separating from you, I wouldn't. Believe me." He whispered so quietly I wouldn't have heard him had his forehead not been against mine. He kissed me then, and I gave myself over to his hands.
Now as I lay beside him, I let my tears begin to fall, thankful that he could not see.